Termina Redux
by Radiant Pencil
Summary: It's finally over! I wrote an epilogue just so I could call it finished. This is a story about Moebius and his memories. There aren't any Moebius fans out there. I am sad.
1. Prologue

Termina Redux

Prologue

The Timestreamer stood near the ornate cauldron and sighed, It was soon time to visit King William the Just, or the Nemesis as he soon would be called. He lingered by the eldritch flames a while, trying to warm up in the frigid caverns of the northern mountains. The old man knew it was futile; the chill came not from the eternal winter here but from the coldness that came with too many long years. Moebius knew he had very little time left; maybe a week at most. It all depended on how swift Kain's blade was...

No. He would not...could not think of that now. Everyone had a part to play in the Wheel of Fate and he would not let fear convince him to run away from his own. Even though he comprehended this, ( it was his very mantra) he felt reluctant to activate the hidden switch and enter the chronoplast. Perhaps he could rest here just a little bit...

His mind wandered. Normally, he did not allow this. Brooding and reminiscing could be quite hazardous to mental health, especially to a mind usually operating in more than one continuum. However, he did not even try to quiet his thoughts. He was just so tired...


	2. Redux One

Redux One

...he was so tired now. He couldn't quite feel the blood flowing from a dozen wounds but he was having difficulty focusing his eyes. Still, he could see the bodies lying about the chamber, bodies both human and vampiric. He had killed them all, without a single thought but the hard part was soon to come.

"Where is she?" he screamed at the nearly dead vampire who was trying to crawl away on what was left of his arms and legs. Moebius wished he had kept some of the water for himself, he was quite thirsty.

The vampire only gurgled and increased his efforts at escape. He must get away from this monster; this man who was barely past being a boy, covered in blood and leering maniacally down at him. He was still holding the bucket whose contents had maimed him, the hammer whose end had taken his fangs.

"Where is she!" he screamed again and took the vampire by the hair. Finally, in an agonized

lisp the vampire replied,

"Tthe's in the Inner Thanctum!"

Moebius bent down, smiling politely and said in his ear,

"Thank you. You may be released now." A flash of metal, a spurt of blood and it was over.

Whistling a tune under his breath, he traveled down the labyrinthine hallways and staircases. The glow from the luminescent crystals set in the walls gave him a strange pallor only offset by the blood smeared on his face and arms. A chill was setting in but that wasn't unusual since the vampire architects of the Citadel didn't exactly have insulation in mind when they built it. As soon as he reached the Inner Sanctum's massive doors, he knew she was alone. Hopefully they wouldn't be interrupted. As he pushed open the doors, he tried to focus his thoughts. No doubt now, no hesitation. This was the only way and it was decreed by God himself, so no...more...weakness. This was the conclusion that was meant to be. This was...destiny.

Regardless of how prepared he thought he was, he still felt his heart pounding in his throat.

He could scarcely breathe as he looked in and saw her. She stood by the balcony past the giant seven chairs that served as the only furniture in the chamber. Her raven wings were folded neatly as always. She wore just a simple white toga despite the snow that was drifting in through the wide windows. Her dark hair was garlanded with tiny flowers.

"Moebius..." she said quietly. If she noticed the gore that slicked his face and arms, she made no sign. All she did was look at him, with a faint glimmer of sadness in her golden eyes. After a time, she said, softer than a creeping mouse,

"I'm sorry."

He shook his head grimly. A strand of hair, greasy with blood, fell into his face but he paid it no heed. He gripped the sword and pointed it at her heart.

"This goes beyond you and me."

"Oh?"

"God said it must be so."

Her laughter echoed throughout the domed chamber like little tinkling bells.

"So when you ran away you found religion?" she asked. "When you left, there was no sign of your escape. No guards saw you, no boat was taken across the lake. A fledgling said you ran into the forgotten sanctuary. Is it true?"

"Yes," Moebius replied, eyeing her suspiciously as she strode closer, "that's where He spoke to me."

"And what did he say?"

"The time of the vampire's reign was over. That I was to be the instrument of their culling."

"How exciting!" she smiled wanly. "Did He say that we vampires once worshiped Him?"

"He told me everything." Moebius said, the anger apparent in his voice. Her eyes narrowed at him and she opened wide her wings, somehow making her look bigger than she was.

"Do you know just how long you were in there?" she hissed.

"A few hours? I'm not sure," he replied as conversationally as he could.

"Fifteen years, Moebius."

For a second, Moebius faltered. Then a forced smile came upon him.

"What does it matter? He delivered me where and when I needed to be," he scoffed.

"I thought you were dead!" she cried suddenly. He was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

"Is that why the human blood trade has prospered so much?" he growled. "I was gone for so long. No more of my silly whims to work around! Why really work at a treaty, after all?" He began to gesture wildly and sheer rage made his voice tremble. "Humans die! Who will be left to remember the promises you made?"

"That's not how it is!" she cried. "I tried it the way you wanted. It worked for a while, having a human pair up with a vampire who's passed the tests. But the lines...and the waiting...people were dissatisfied with not getting fed enough. And what fledgling can really keep himself from killing his host? I mean really? So, yes I allowed the underground blood trade. Yes, I lied to you. I'm sor..."

"It doesn't matter! I told you! It's beyond all of this!" Moebius screamed suddenly.

He stepped closer to her, wielding a sword that was filthy with viscera. She did not step back but spread her wings wider, making her appear more fearsome in some subliminally divine way.

"God told me...He told me that I was a Guardian, part of the Circle of Nine. That I had much work to do if I was to truly serve Nosgoth, but that He would guide me," Moebius said, his breath becoming ragged and irregular.

"You serve nothing but your blind desire for vengeance." she said quietly.

She gasped as the sword slid quickly and easily into her.

"But I've already forgiven you," he said as he laid her gently on the floor, "Your soul will finally be released and sent to where it can be purified." He kissed her as she died, taking in her final breath. Even though eyes shone absolute fury and pain, he wore a cracked grin as if it were the only thing keeping him together.

"And one day I'll join you, Jadwiga," he whispered and closed her eyes. The blood loss had finally weakened him and he collapsed beside her, dimly aware of increasingly louder wingbeats...

louder and louder and...


	3. Redux Two

Redux Two

...louder and louder until he realized that there were two hazy figures looking down at him. He tried to blink away the red miasma that clouded his vision but decided he really didn't want to see. They were speaking to each other in angry and horrified voices.

"What the hell happened here?" one was saying over and over again. The other was merely muttering something. What had happened...? He managed to turn his head and he saw the prone body of Jadwiga. Terror and fury ripped through him until he remembered he had been the one who had killed her. Funny how things happened...

"This one's still alive!" one said and peered into his face. Moebius saw that the owner of the voice was a dark-skinned man with a gargoyle face who was dressed like a prince. He went to reply something poignant but only managed a bloody cough. He couldn't feel his arms or legs but his head swirled painfully with delirium. He could hear his own heart beating slowly, weakly...

"It can't be..."the other one said in astonishment. "What happened here? Who killed my sister?" Moebius saw an Ancient, one of the original vampires as Jadwiga had been, step near the gargoyle man.

Moebius, even though he was nearly dead, managed to think quickly, an ability that saved his life many many times...

"Raiders...there were so many...Aloysius led his army here...struck without warning..."

"Aloysius?" the gargoyle said, "He's been dead for some time. At least a decade. He was tried for war crimes in front of the Council."

Oh yes...he had been gone for fifteen years...thanks, God.

"But...they were under his banner. The red bear...maybe one of his brood..." Moebius mutterd.

"They will pay..." the Ancient said, cradling the head of his sister.

"But...Sire, there's no sign of the other side." the gargoyle vampire pointed out, "None of their casualties, their discarded weapons, no looting, no rape. Just plenty of her brood. I don't even smell anyone of a different bloodline. You there! Boy! Who are you?"

"I'm Moebius...I was Lady Jadwiga's adviser. Is...is she...?" he stammered. He was disgusted at how easily the lie came from him. He watched as a strange light came into the Ancient vampire's eyes as he wiped away the matted hair and blood that congealed on his forehead. Moebius knew he was looking at the strange crest that marked him since birth.

Finally after close inspection, the Ancient spoke.

"There was a reason behind my strange dream telling me to come home. Vorador, we have found the Timestreamer."

Moebius smiled. 'God' wasn't just a voice in his head. He had spoken the truth about what had happened and what would happen. It was true, he was a Guardian, this vampire just confirmed it...

"He looks about dead..." the gargoyle-man Vorador said, peering down at him.

"We must hurry," the Ancient said. "Look for any signs of Aloysius' brood. I will tend to this one."

Moebius couldn't remember how he ended up in the bed he found himself in, but he winced as he tried to sit up. His wounds were bound and dressed and the blood had been cleaned away.

It took a bit but he recognized it as one of the chambers in the Citadel. More than anything he wished he was not in this place, in this room, but since those strange vampires were here there wasn't much chance of escape. He lay back down, calming himself. Besides, this was where he was meant to be. God himself wasn't even far away, he thought with an inward titter, and pulled the blanket closer around him. With absolutely no fear he fell back asleep, listening to the sounds of the blizzard wailing like a banshee outside...wailing and shrieking and...


	4. Redux Three

Redux Three

...wailing all around, whipping up the snow in a blinding fury. Moebius was glad he was accustomed to winters up in the mountains. He thought this as he ambled down the echoing halls of the Citadel, limping slightly. His wounds had healed, leaving vicious scars behind, but he was not completely well. Perhaps a pulled tendon, he wondered and continued his search for the other Guardian he had heard about, who was somewhere here. It was only a few weeks after what Janos liked to call 'the massacre' and so far, no one had seen through Moebius' cover. Of course, the complete lack of evidence of an invading army stirred up much suspicion, especially with Vorador but no one was likely to even think that Moebius had anything to do with it. How can one measly human slaughter a whole brood of vampires, after all?

The bodies had been disposed of, the mess had been cleaned up and he had even gone to Jadwiga's funeral. It had pained him to see her again, but he resolved to not feel remorse. He had done The Right Thing. Except when he saw Janos...her elder brother...imagine the gentle vampire's wrath if he found out! Moebius felt no fear at this thought, but a detached sense of curiosity. Janos had seen the remains of the unsavory blood trade and even if he didn't suspect the motive behind the murder, he knew she had broken the Covenant. This gave the newly instated Timestreamer a cold satisfaction.

He had to walk all the way to the rear of the Citadel, where it opened upon a vast view of the lake and the dazzling white tundra beyond. Moebius spied a dark figure sitting upon the steps, black against the snow. Silently, he strode closer, startling the other Guardian, the only other human who wasn't a servant, when he sat beside him. He jumped but did not acknowledge his visitor. He only continued to stare blankly out at the horizon.

Moebius could see that the other was younger, maybe fifteen or sixteen; a pale boy with feathery black hair who looked like he didn't eat enough. He was wrapped in a red robe too big for him and it only added to his gaunt appearance. For a long time, neither said anything and watched the snow pile up against the Citadel wall.

"You're going to want to leave soon," the other Guardian said in a disturbingly deep and sepulchral voice.

"What's your name?" Moebius asked, ignoring the warning.

"Mortanius. You're a Guardian too?" the boy replied.

"Yes. Of time, I'm told."

"Can you tell the future?"

"Sometimes."

Here the conversation paused and Moebius got the sense that the other Guardian was listening intently for something...but what could be heard over the screaming of the wind? Disturbed by the whole situation and put off by the boy's intense manner, Moebius decided he needed to speak up.

"So why should I want to leave soon?" he ventured.

"A few days ago I was sitting around thinking of home..." Mortanius replied gravely, "and I happened to think of my dog."

"So what?"

"I thought too hard. I felt the...the connection...so now he's coming here."

"Impressive," Moebius chuckled.

"My dog's been dead for three years."

For one of the few times in his life, Moebius was speechless. He followed Mortanius' gaze across the landscape and to his horror, saw a small black figure near the horizon, the only feature on the field of snow. For a frozen eternity, neither said anything, all the while watching the tiny dot grow larger and larger until it disappeared into the lake.

"You're not afraid?" Mortanius finally asked.

"It will be the first zombie dog I've ever seen," Moebius forced a laugh, "but no. I'm not afraid." He saw the hint of a smile on the youth's face. " I'll help you rebury him."

"Okay."

Moebius rose only once, to retrieve a shovel. An hour passed and when the monstrosity finally

emerged, he made Mortanius look away as he bashed in the creature's skull. Unfortunately the ground was too frozen to be broken up for a proper grave so they threw the carcass into the lake with great ceremony.

"Will you tell me something Moebius?" the Necromancer asked as they walked back to the warmth of the Citadel.

"Of course."

"Right now, everything is in the pits," Mortanius let out a haggard sigh, "I've seen and done horrible things. I don't know what's going on and I want to know if things will always be like this."

Moebius concentrated for a moment and then replied.

"Pretty much."

Laughing, they entered the Citadel. Compared to the blazing white outside, the foyer was murky and dark and hazy...he couldn't see...


	5. Redux Four

Redux Four

...he couldn't see but there was a dignified scraping sound, and Moebius knew that Janos had landed. The newly instated Timestreamer remained out of sight against the wall of the balconied room. The sun was just beginning to set and he would have to wake up Mortanius soon. The chore was a pain but he could sympathize with the Necromancer. Bad things would come if you shut your eyes for too long. Really bad things...

"I'm glad you're home safely Sire," he heard Vorador say, "How was the search?"

"I have located the Druid but she is of such a young age that her parents refuse to give her over," he heard Janos say. There was a ruffling as he folded his wings and sat down.

"Did you explain that she is vital to Nosgoth's future?" Vorador asked exasperatedly, "That she is a Guardian?"

"Of course my son." Janos said sadly. There was a pause and then he heard Vorador say,

"I'm sorry, Sire. Of course you did. Would you like something to eat?"

"No!" Janos said, more loudly than he intended, "God no."

"Sire, you must feed,"

"I know...I...I'll do it later," Janos stammered. "So how are our resident Guardians? The children must be so frightened. It's a big task they have."

Children? Moebius sneered. He was twenty-two and Mortanius was almost seventeen now. Then again...everyone must seem young when you're aeons old, he thought.

"Moebius seems to be fine, seeing as he lived here before, though he has been asking awkward questions. And I have never seen a child so prone to terror as Mortanius," answered Vorador.

"Hmmm," Janos pondered, "What kind of questions has he been asking?"

"Things like why time is a pillar if there logically isn't such a thing as time," Vorador sighed.

"Oh dear..."

"Things like what we're going to do with them..."

"Going to do...?" Janos said, "Oh Vorador, you haven't told him...anything, have you?"

"Of course not!" At this Moebius listened more closely.

Janos sighed and settled into his armchair, holding his dark head in his hands.

"I am not looking forward to it, Vorador." he nearly sobbed.

"You know you must," Vorador said sternly, "and soon. They are both of age."

"I know...I'll do it tonight," Janos said. "Perhaps they will be the better for it."

"It can only help Mortanius...or destroy him," Vorador said laughing, "He has night terrors during the day."

"But Moebius could be a problem," he continued, "He has just too much...rage."

"Does he?" asked Janos idly.

"Sire, have you seen how he looks at us?" Vorador said, lividly. "At you?"

"He has much to be angry about."

"I don't think so. I think he..." Vorador said.

"Please...not now, child," Janos sighed and stood. "I must go...and do this thing that lies ahead."

Moebius was frozen in his place in front of the door. Utter fear struck him so hard he didn't even know what it was. They were planning on doing something to them! He had to get to Mortanius and figure out what to do! First he would need sticks...or something else sharp. Then he would need to secure at least two possible exits and then...

"Where are you going?" he heard Vorador ask Janos but it was too late. The door swung open and he was face to face with Janos Audron.

"I thought I heard you come home," Moebius lied perfectly, ignoring Vorador's scowl.. "How was your journey?"

"Very well, though without results," Janos said, not able to conceal his feelings half as well as the Timestreamer. "May I speak with you? In private?"

"Well, I have to wake up Mortanius..." Moebius said, "What do you need?"

"It will take just a little of your time," Janos insisted and the look on his face told Moebius that whatever the task was, he was not getting out of it.

"Let us go," he shrugged, wishing he had a dagger on him. All the way to the library, Moebius sized him up, wondering if he could take on the ancient vampire. Between the wings was a good place and so was...

But Janos had already closed the door and without meaning to, Moebius tensed. The vampire merely stood in the center of the room, looking grave.

"What do you need?" Moebius asked again, this time sternly.

"I'm sorry..." was all he said before he leapt, fangs burying themselves in his throat.

As he felt his life drain away, he didn't even try to struggle. He had been bitten many times before and had bested many attackers, but now...now was all a foggy blackness...he could hear a churning rhythm getting farther and farther away...and he realized it was his heart.

He hit the cold cobblestones of the floor, which shook him out of his induced stupor. A searing pain lanced through his entire neck and he could scarcely breathe. In impotent anger, he looked up at Janos and smiled. There knelt the 'noble' vampire, with blood smeared across his mouth, his eyes wide open with horror and shame. There knelt the monster Moebius knew was there all along.

"I'm...I can't do this..." Janos muttered over and over. "I'm sorry..."

With a tremendous effort, Moebius swayed to his feet, clutching at his wound. He sneered at the Ancient and shook his head.

"Is that all you vampires can say?" he said viciously, " 'I'm sorry'? You promise and you preach but in the end it all comes down to your beastly tendencies." He knelt down by Janos and placed a hand on his trembling shoulder.

"I killed Jadwiga for the same reason," he whispered. "There. The truth Vorador so desperately wanted to make you see is out. She told me to renounce my mortality. She gave me an ultimatum, can you believe it? I killed her and I have no remorse. You want to make us vampires? I'll kill you if you ever look at me or Mortanius suspiciously. And I can do so with a clear heart, believe me, you beast."

Janos looked up from his hands and stared at Moebius for a long time, for what seemed to be an uncomfortable eternity.

"I've known all this time, child." said Janos quietly.

"What?"

"I've known all along, Moebius," the vampire continued. "But what could I do? We needed you. Nosgoth needed you. And I could see why you did what you did. Because of my sister, the Serioli tribe is no more.. She broke the Charter that she made. If I hadn't been away looking for the Guardians, I could have been there to prevent everything. It...it really is my fault she died. I'm sorry."

Moebius reeled back, jerking away his hand from Janos' shoulder. His face was twisted with rage and indignation.

"Sorry? You're sorry?" he snarled. "What's wrong with you? Are you stupid? I killed your sister and every one of her brood! I laughed while I did it! Don't give me that pitying look! Hate me! Seek vengeance! Do something, you suffering little saint! You beast! You monster!" His voice ripped into a mad shriek as he clutched at the Ancient's wings and began to rip out handfuls of black feathers. Janos just knelt there, head held in his hands, not moving, not speaking.

There was a loud bang as Vorador ran into the room. Moebius couldn't remember much after that. Everything just went red and quiet. Three hours later, he woke up in his bed with a large bandage on his throat. Mortanius was sitting at his desk, writing fitfully. When he heard his friend stir, his dark eyes lit up with relief.

"Moebius! What happened? Vorador wouldn't tell me anything and I was so scared..." the Necromancer said.

"It's time to go." Moebius said. Those were the words that started the revolt that would rock Nosgoth to its core. The next few days were a time of apprehension...fear...hiding...


	6. Redux Five

Redux 5

...he was so tired of hiding. Moebius had protested, but the other Serioli who had survived all agreed with the elder. If Barthas had sent a Whisper before he died for his sire Aloysius to avenge him then they would fight him when the time came. There was no sense in going out looking for a fight. Moebius knew that Aloysius would come for him and him alone. He wanted to leave the village and face the vampire alone, so that no one else could get hurt. Instead here he was, back to his same old job he had before the invasion. He wasn't even a blacksmith. He just swept up around the place. Many people still couldn't believe that the young man, who was fatherless and without a name, had actually taken up emergency command after the initial slaughter. They couldn't believe it was by his hand that Barthas the Red Bear had fallen. They especially couldn't believe that Aloysius, the one under direct command of the Ancients themselves, was coming for him. Even though they tried to hide it, Moebius could feel them all staring at him as he swept outside the smithy, asking themselves if everything that had happened in the last year had really happened.

"Ummm...Moebius?" a voice asked, startling him out of his angry brooding. He looked up from the furiously swept doorstep and saw the owner of the smithy, One-Armed Serge, looking inquisitively at him.

"What's wrong?" replied Moebius and then he sneered. "What the hell is that on your forehead?"

Serge grinned and pointed at the sigil on his forehead. "It's the elder's idea. Barthas told Aloysius that you're a man with a strange mark on your forehead, right?"

"That's what he said before he died, yes..." Moebius scowled.

"Well, he'll have a hard time finding you now!" Serge exclaimed. "Every man in the village has marked himself like this."

"And what's to stop him from killing us all?" Moebius demanded. He tossed aside his broom and stormed away.

"Where are you going?" Serge asked.

"I'm going to the elder!"

"But you missed a spot!"

Despite his outrage and horror, the elder refused to rescind his order of the markings. He was certain that there would be no assault on the whole village, he had much knowledge of the vampires' idea of how vengeance should be carried out...Moebius had left the old man before he finished explaining. He returned to his hated sweeping...and it was the same...day after day...the sweeping and the waiting...and the watching...until one night.

There was a full moon out and the snow was just beginning to fall. Moebius had been ordered to stay behind and sweep up a clear pathway to the door while everyone else went to go see the visitors who had come to the village. He could feel his heart pounding as he listened raptly for any screams or sounds of battle. He heard nothing for hours. The sweeping was finished, long since finished and he was pretending to be busy as hard as he could. People were just now beginning to mill back to their homes, each with an odd grin. Finally he saw the massive bulk of Serge and ran to him.

"What happened? What is it? Has he come?" Moebius demanded.

"Don't worry about it," was all Serge supplied, "Would you get a bucket? I've lost mine and I need you to do some mopping."

"Don't worry about it?"

"Get that bucket, boy..." Serge growled tossing back his shaggy black hair. Moebius knew he was getting nowhere. With an anguished sigh, he strode over to the miller's. Maybe they had a godforsaken lousy bucket...and maybe they knew something. As he quickly strode over the overgrown path leading to the mill, he wrapped his arms around himself to keep warm. He never thought to bring a coat...

He reached the mill and of course it was locked. Dejectedly, he sat upon a spare barrel and cursed the rapidly falling snow. A white blanket was quickly covering the forest floor and he absently watched it build up. Maybe he should just leave...maybe that would make it easier for everyone...

"Do you know Moebius?" a soft voice came from behind and startled him He hopped off the barrel and whirled around to see a lone Ancient, standing in the snow. He could barely keep himself from gasping, because even though he was angry for being caught off-guard, he thought she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

"P...pardon?"

"Do you know Moebius?" she repeated. "Personally I don't think he exists."

"Really?" he said and cursed himself for sounding hopeful.

"Yes," she said and sat upon the barrel he had been using, "I've asked everyone in the village where he is, or even who he is and so far what I've heard is that he's a seven foot tall barbarian who lives in the woods and can only be brought out with a virgin sacrifice. I think the story is just a farce to scare away whoever else Barthas might've yelled at."

"Yelled at?"

"Whatever raiding party that killed him must've been fearsome indeed to make Barthas send out such a loud Whisper. It was meant for the General Aloysius, but every vampire in the country must've picked it up."

"And why are you here?" Moebius asked, finally gaining control of his faculties.

"Me?" she said absently. "I was sent by my brother Janos to make sure nothing else happens. Barthas' invasion was most unprecedented. We from the Citadel were horrified to hear of what happened. I was sent to make arrangements for restitution. We all figured this Moebius would be the leader and the one to speak with."

"Wait...Janos...Audron?" asked Moebius. "The vampire who managed to cast away all the Hylden?"

The pretty vampire smiled at him and while his heart fluttered he stayed a good distance away. She stretched her black wings and hopped off the barrel. He was surprised to see how short she was compared to him.

"He said you Serioli have looooong memories. Yes he's the same one as the one you heard of. But why am I chatting with you? I apologize, it was a long journey. If you don't know Moebius who is now famous all over Nosgoth for killing the Red Bear's first born and his army of the six hundred and sixty six then you can't help me." She sighed exquisitely and turned away mumbling "I just botched my first major assignment...I can't believe it."

"Are you also looking for Moebius who is famous for his sweeping?" he said before he could reign in the words. She turned to him and smiled quizzically.

"I think I need to hear the whole story. Let's go where it's warmer..."


	7. Redux Six

Redux Six

...warmer and warmer, the days were getting unseasonably warmer. The melting snow turned the surrounding land into a big, muddy marsh.. The only place unaffected was the mountains and the Citadel, but Moebius couldn't be certain about that. It had been more than thirty years since his 'grand exit' of the Citadel and he hadn't desired to return since. He didn't think he would be exactly welcomed with open arms. Besides, he had too much to do to go back 'home'.

"No! Please don't!" the youthful looking female vampire begged, trying to crawl away. "I swear it! I won't drink blood any longer! Please, lord!"

Her words were lost on him. He had done this for thirty years and had grown hardened against any such pleas. Not that they had ever caused him to reconsider. He used to take the time out to explain why he did what he did to his foes, if he had the luxury. Now he didn't even bother. The result was the same regardless and he grew tired of 'the speech'. Let God explain, if He would.

With a grunt of effort, he thrust the spear into her and twisted, making sure to miss her heart. With the help of some younger recruits, he mounted the spear into the ground, letting her dangle helplessly in the air. Perhaps in a few days they would take her head. He was more concerned about getting the message across to the vermin rather than any real exterminations. Stepping back to admire his handiwork, he wiped his bloodstained hands on his trousers and sighed. He knew he was being watched and like everything else lately, it tired him.

"Must you do that?" a deep, cryptic voice called out from behind him. "Just kill her if you must. Let it end easily."

Moebius turned around to greet the Mortanius. The Necromancer had not aged well. Constantly shrouded in a dark robe and lingering persistently in the shadows, he had begun to resemble the corpses over which he had mastery.

"What's the reason for the visit, friend?" Moebius asked as pleasantly as he could. Years ago Mortanius had left him, saying that there was always another way to achieve revenge other than genocide. He claimed he was disgusted with Moebius' zeal and methods and of his gruesome organization- the Serafan. Then he called the Timestreamer 'not so subtle' and Moebius had all but thrown him out of their lodgings. He was surprised to see him now, so unceremoniously, after all this time.

"I was concerned for you," Mortanius replied.

"Why?" Moebius asked after barking an order to a clueless initiate.

"Vorador left the Citadel and has built for himself a manor in the Termogent Forest. No one was certain why, but it might be to better eliminate the threat of...your efforts."

"Left the Citadel?" Moebius scoffed, "Left his beloved Sire? I'm surprised. Thank you, Mortanius, but I must ask you where you found your information."

"Janos told me."

The fury was unmistakable in the Timestreamer's eyes. He drew in a deep breath and after too long a time, exhaled.

"You spoke with the cretin?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"He is your nemesis, not mine," Mortanius replied. "Besides, he came to me. I didn't seek him out. Also, you might care to know that no one lives in the Citadel anymore. It is completely abandoned. Janos has taken up residence in his old ancestral aerie."

"Where is that?" the Timestreamer asked over the din of vampiric shrieking.

"Near Uschtenheim. I have seen it and it is quite impressive.. It's unaccessible to any without wings." Mortanius reported gravely.

"What else did he tell you?" Moebius growled.

"That he wishes for you to come home safely."

The silence and tension were nearly tangible as the two Guardians stood, staring each other down. Finally, it was broken by a quiet muttering from the Necromancer, accompanied by a slight hand gesture. Knowing what was to come, Moebius braced himself, drawing his sword. A shrill scream behind him made him jump unexpectedly. He turned and saw the helpless vampire girl, now surrounded by a pair of shadowy wraiths. Effortlessly, they lifted her off of the pike and with a crackle of eldritch energy, snapped her spine and threw her to the ground. As quietly as they came, they disappeared. She stared up at Moebius with glassy, dead eyes that begged no more.

"There was a time when I would have died for you, my first and only friend. The fact that you thought I was going to cast the curse upon you tells me I can stay with you no longer. " Mortanius said quietly, "Farewell, Moebius." Expressionlessly, he turned and vanished into the dense copse of trees.

Moebius stood silently amidst the carnage he had wrought, feeling for the first time in years the pang of deep loss. Numbly, he turned back to the cadet who had been trying to get his attention for a few minutes.

"Sir, we found a whole nest of the blaggards in a little hovel to the east," he said breathlessly, hopping from one foot to the other.

"So kill them..." Moebius said irritably.

"Well, sir, we would have already, but they've got hostages," the cadet supplied.

"How many?"

"Not certain, sir. About seven or eight. All children, it appears."

Sighing with the certainty that this was going to end up an absolute mess, he gave his orders.

"Get me the scepter and lead the way."

The hovel stood deep in the shadows of the ancient forest, a decrepit and pathetic thing. Surrounding it was a group of furious but hapless hunters. As he strode imperiously to the one looking the least asinine, he couldn't help but feel inadequate. Here was the Serafan, a force of angry, brave but altogether untrained and foolish peasants who were poorly armed and ready to jump at anything that rustled in the bushes, whether it be vampire or fearsome bunny.

"What's the situation?"

"Uhhhhhhh..." the soldier said for much too long for Moebius' nerves. "Well, the three vampires are in that house and they got the children. They ain't coming out neither..."

"Where are the children's parents?" asked Moebius.

"Over there. I think that's them." the soldier said, gulped and pointed to a pair of mutilated bodies laying haphazardly in the brush.

"Oh for God's sake...!"

Thoroughly agitated, Moebius pushed aside the dumbly staring soldiers who were guarding the doorway. Holding forth the strange scepter, he entered with his sword drawn. All the soldiers saw was the glow of the violet orb permeating the darkness and then the door shut behind him. There was a moment's uneasy silence and then the most horrible and agonized screams ripped through the quiet forest. A final sharp cry rang out and then, slowly, the door opened again. Out staggered Moebius, covered in blood. He had dropped his sword and leaned heavily against the now dim staff. Blood was flowing freely from his limp arm. Following him were seven boys, all wide eyed and quaking, save one. He wasn't even the biggest or toughest looking of the bunch, but Moebius could tell he was the leader anyway. He sighed and dropped the staff, clutching at the wound. A few years ago, three vampires would have never posed a challenge, let alone bodily harm. He was getting old...

"Your parents are dead, I'm afraid," Moebius said bluntly. He slumped down against the wall of the hut and tried to ignore the sniffling and sobbing of the children. He was both pleased and alarmed to see the same unafraid boy not crying with the rest of them.

"They weren't our parents. We're not brothers, either," the dark haired boy said, more to the other children rather than Moebius.

"I see. So what's to become of you now?" Moebius asked, allowing one of the cadets tend to his injury.

"They were friends of our families. They were going to take us to Avernus, to put us in a monastery, while our fathers went to find medicine for the sickness that's been spreading."

"I see. Do you want to become monks still?" he questioned the boy.

"No."

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes!" they all answered eagerly. Moebius ordered one of the idle hunters to retrieve rations for the boys and something potent for himself. God help those fools if there wasn't any more ale...

After he saw that everyone was settled in with their paltry meals, he resumed talking to the boys and told them of the Serafan and its purpose. This seemed to amaze them and cease their tears. Soon they had asked a thousand questions before Moebius could get a word in edgewise.

"You realize your fathers probably aren't coming back," Moebius said carefully, "We swept through Avernus recently. It...wasn't good."

"We were going to run away anyway. They were going to sell us to some weird gypsies, I think," the stoic boy stated frankly and without bitterness.

"That's no good," Moebius laughed, "What is your name, brave little man?"

"Raziel."

At this, a strange feeling came over Moebius. This happened only rarely but he was experienced enough to know that when it came, you obeyed it and held on as long as the ride lasted. He began to laugh wildly, a bit more loudly than he intended.

"Raziel, eh? 'Secret of God'..." he said, catching his breath. "By my soul, how wonderful!" At this, he burst again into laughter and didn't know why. He didn't mind so much though. Fate was in progress...


	8. Epilogue

Epilogue

'Secret of God'. For years Moebius pondered the meaning and significance of those words. Was Raziel a secret that God kept to himself? Or was he a secret that God Himself didn't even know about? He stared into the cauldron and wondered absently, shaking himself out of the reverie. He hadn't meant to wander off in memories like that, but it was inevitable sometimes. Still, he felt uneasy.

He knew he should use the Chronoplast, and visit King William. He knew that...but an incredible ennui held him back. He suddenly wanted to speak to Mortanius but he knew the futility in that. He wanted to go back to the Stronghold, or what remained of it. He wanted to be anywhere but here, doing anything but this. ...He wanted to be with Jadwiga...

It had been like this for a while now. Not that he was changing his mind about his crusade, or questioning the ways of his god. He was just so tired and jaded, which was a pity, because here he was, so close to the cultivation of all his years of work. Regardless, the feeling remained.. He hadn't even tried to prevent Azimuth from stealing the portable Chronoplast. Let her have it. Let her burn Avernus to the ground for all he cared. What did it matter? He hadn't really minded when he learned that Bane, Anarcrothe, and Dejoule were busy 'transforming' Nosgoth into some sort of Dark Eden. At least they were amusing themselves for a turn. And as for Nupraptor... he was keeping to himself and so was bearable. Vorador was undoubtedly somewhere, being a true decadent and reveling in his 'gift' and making a general mess with various body fluids.

Vorador. The thought of the repulsive enemy stirred him. Perhaps he had lost sight of his goals. Perhaps he was jaded, and tired and bored. Perhaps he was even resentful of some of the things he might have done. But he would never relent on his old enemy. Janos had died at Raziel's hands, but his immediate death afterwards had somewhat soured the occasion. But Vorador...even Malek didn't have the same ferocity towards the old vampire as the Timestreamer. His death would be one to savor...yes. Continue on, just to see it. It was a reason to keep on with the charade. Soon God would give the word that the time was right.

But Kain would have to come, before all that could happen. Kain. The last nobleman of disease riddled Coorhagen. The one destined to be the last vampire. The one who was destined to have a choice and yet no choice at all...

"I have the answers, if you have the questions. And what ARE the questions?" Moebius said to his long awaited visitor.

His fatemaker...

The End

Author's note: God, that was hard to write! This whole thing was just a big mental mess, wasn't it? Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Thanks for muddling through Moebius' train wreck. I meant to be more concise with the convoluted backstory I made for him...but oh well. If you like my writing, check out my Mortanius story I'm about to make. It's like this one, but in better order. And then maybe one for Janos. I like Janos...he's so tragic. Wish me luck.


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